


The Demons at Network 23

by ElegantButler



Category: Max Headroom - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-25 01:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17715809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElegantButler/pseuds/ElegantButler
Summary: A demonic horde is about to be unleashed at Network 23.





	1. Chapter 1

Max Headroom/Supernatural

The Demons at Network 23

 

Chapter One

  
  


“The blood of a virgin, straight from the heart,” whispered Ashwell as he bent down over Bryce, who was sound asleep. He took a long narrow tube and pushed it into Bryce’s chest.

 

Bryce’s eyes flew open as he tried to pull the tube free as Ashwell pushed it closer and closer to his heart. “No!” he exclaimed. “You’ll kill me!”

 

“I need that blood,” Ashwell told him as they struggled, the tube still going deeper.

 

Bryce froze in agony as it pierced his heart.

 

“Why?” 

 

“I’m tired of being this network’s laughingstock,” Ashwell said as he pulled a small bottle from his pocket and began to drain Bryce’s blood into it. “Once I’m finished, nobody will laugh at me again.”

 

“You’re insane!” Bryce gasped, trying to push Ashwell away. If the man took too much blood… 

 

Ashwell stepped back, closing the bottle. “You might want to have that looked at,” he added casually as he left.

 

Bryce didn’t bother giving chase or calling security. Ashwell, for once in his life, was right. Bryce needed a doctor, and quickly. 

 

“Max!” he called out, wondering why he hadn’t called for the construct during his struggle with Ashwell. Perhaps he’d been too panicked. He would have to consider it later, though.

 

“You…” Max began in a cheerful drawl.

 

“Shut up and call an ambulance,” Bryce told him, his voice urgent. “My heart… Pierced… Hurry!”

 

Max didn’t waste any time. The minute he told heard that Bryce’s heart had been injured, he had paramedics on the screen of the view phone.

 

“What’s the emergency?” 

 

Bryce was weakening at this point. Thankful that they could see him, he showed them the bleeding wound over his heart as he sank to the floor.

 

“We’re on our way!” the paramedic told him. “Max, send me his location.”

 

Max sent Bryce’s location and level to the ambulance, then shouted at Bryce.

 

“Stay awake! Come on, Bryce!”

 

Bryce’s eyelids fluttered as he struggled to remain conscious. He didn’t know how long he waited, but as he began to finally slip under, he felt himself being lifted and placed on a stretcher. 

 

“Can you hear me?” he heard them asked, but he was too far gone to reply. He could feel them carry him out of the studio, then everything went black.

 

In the depths of the darkness, a voice whispered a name he did not know. His heart, not his physical heart, but that spiritual part of him which people erroneously referred to as the heart, trembled with trepidation, but his mind, always curious, took in the new knowledge as he would any other.

 

“Bryce,” the voice told him. “Our knowledge is old and sacred. We are but few now, and our numbers are slowly dying out. You must accept what we offer. Without it, you cannot survive what is to come. So many will be lost. But with your help, the number of deaths may be fewer.”

 

“I know a lot as well,” Bryce replied. “I can add what I know to the knowledge you have amassed and…”

 

“We are not interested in modern technology,” the voice said. “Such mundane things will not serve you in the war that is to come. That fool Ashwell thinks he will summon a servant. But he will unleash something far more insidious.”

 

“And how can I stop him?” Bryce asked. “He’s already overpowered me once.”

 

“You have a power in you that you know nothing about,” the voice told him. “It is the source of your genius. It has lain dormant within you since the day you were born.”

 

“Power?” Bryce asked. “What on earth are you talking about?”

 

“You must awaken soon,” the voice said. “There is no time left to explain. But you will come to understand.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

###  Chapter Two

 

Richard Haversham, butler to what remained of the British Royal Family, stood at his post just outside the sickroom of the Princess Marietta. She had been born ill, and though they had done all they could for her, she had been bedridden all her life.

 

It had made her sad that she would never leave the room that was her world. But her father, the King, did everything he could to bring what he could of the world to her. 

 

When she had fallen in love with her doctor, a man in his late twenties, when she had turned nineteen, the King had made it clear that no involvement would take place until she was twenty four. And to make certain that nothing amiss took place, he sent the doctor off a new medical school to update and upgrade his training. 

 

Two months earlier, the doctor, Mark Marlowe, had returned to England, and, as Princess Marietta was the required age that her father had demanded, a friendly flirtation had sprung up between Dr. Marlowe and Marietta.

 

It soon had become clear that the two were in love, but this made many enemies of Kings and Queens from nearby countries who felt their sons, not some doctor, deserved her hand in marriage.

 

Knowing that it was unlikely that any of the Royal Family would survive much longer if these countries launched a joint attack, the butler had kept his silence out of professional courtesy, until he could do so no longer.

 

“I know it’s not my place, sire,” he said, apologetically. “But unless something is done, the Royal Family will not exist much longer.”

 

“The Princess cannot be moved!” the King argued. “What do you expect me to do?”

 

“We must find a surrogate to bear the Royal Heir,” Haversham told him. “Someone whom no one will ever suspect. Someone above reproach who can be kept safely hidden.”

 

Dr. Marlowe, who had been standing at the entrance to the parlor, cleared his throat.

 

“I believe I know of someone,” he said. “This is going to be a very unorthodox suggestion, but given the work that Ovu-Vat has been doing, I believe it could work. There is a boy who works for Network 23. Hardly anyone even knew he existed until he arrived at the hospital after a heart injury. But medical records can be easily blanked. He was a graduate of the Academy of Computer Sciences, but we can easily pay a student to erase that information as well.”

 

“You’re suggesting that we ask this boy to carry a baby for us?” the King raised an eyebrow.

 

“Your highness, “ the butler said. “I would suggest that we do not make the young man aware of his condition. It would be best to fake an appendicitis attack and to have the royal child implanted when he is sent in for an “appendectomy”.”

 

“How do we do that?” the King asked. He considered, then turned to his butler. “You are not well known outside this castle. You will infiltrate the Network 23 cafeteria and pose as a server. You will provide our subject with the meal in question and make sure to inform us as soon as your task is done.”

 

“Yes, your majesty,” Haversham bowed.

 


End file.
